


After All This Time

by mainstreamelectricalparade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Baby Peter Parker, Don't worry it doesn't last, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Halloween!, Hurt No Comfort, I'll explain more in the notes, Kid Peter Parker, Language, Magic, Minor Character Death, Peter is Harry Potter but this doesn't really get into plot stuff, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, anyway i think that's enough tags, as in more than my usual amount haha whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamelectricalparade/pseuds/mainstreamelectricalparade
Summary: At 21, Tony Stark loses everything.At 31, things start looking up.
Relationships: Ben Parker & May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ben Parker & May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Ben Parker/May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Mary Parker & Richard Parker & Tony Stark, Mary Parker/Richard Parker, Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 92





	After All This Time

**Author's Note:**

> so, a while ago, i did an Iron Dad Harry Potter RP with a friend, and i LOVED it, and we haven't rped together in a while but i still think about that Harry Potter AU a lot, and i've really been wanting to write a fic inspired/based on it. What better time to do that than Halloween?
> 
> Character swaps for context:
> 
> Nick Fury - Albus Dumbledore  
> Tony Stark - some kind of McGonagall/Sirius Black hybrid, I don't even know, he's Peter's godfather but he's also the Deputy Headmaster and a Head of House, it's a whole Thing  
> Peter Parker - Harry Potter  
> Richard and Mary Parker - James and Lily Potter
> 
> Voldemort is just Voldemort, i'm not gonna bother replacing him with Thanos or whoever, it just doesn't work the same. and Ben and May replace the Dursleys, but OBVIOUSLY i didn't make them awful.

_**October 31, 2002** _

“ _Parkers betrayed. He is coming.”_

Those five words, straight to the point, no beating around the bush, spoken from the mouth of a glowing blue translucent eagle Patronus, sent an icy dagger of fear plunging deep into Tony's chest before the message had even ended.

He was supposed to be undercover, gathering information for the Order, but _fuck_ the Order. Voldemort knew where Richard and Mary were hiding. Voldemort was on his way, _right now_ , to kill Tony's best friends.

To kill their one year old son, Peter. Tony's godson. The single ray of sunlight in the darkness that currently shrouded the wizarding world.

Not bothering to check that he was alone, first, Tony gripped his wand tightly in his hand, feeling his fingernails digging into his palm, and spun on his heel, Disapparating into the night, leaving his assignment behind without a second thought.

He paused only long enough to collect Rhodey and Happy, two close friends and Aurors, talented beyond belief, before going straight to Godric's Hollow, Apparating directly onto the street in front of the Parker's house.

Or... _what was left_ of the house.

Tony's heart dropped into his toes as he looked up in horror at the crumbling, ruined walls of the familiar cottage, still emitting fresh smoke from whatever spell had been used to blast it apart. He didn't even flinch at the two deafening _cracks_ that indicated Rhodey and Happy had arrived behind him, his mind lost in the devastation of knowing what was inside the ruins.

“Shit,” Happy breathed, wand at the ready for any danger that might have lingered.

“ _No,”_ Tony croaked, dropping his own wand, despite the protests of the two Aurors, and sprinting forward, up what was left of the cobbled walkway to the front door, which had been left ajar, hanging crooked on loose hinges. Pushing the door open caused it to fall from the frame completely, but he ignored the crash, his eyes falling on the limp, unmoving form of Richard Parker lying face-down in the hallway, wand inches from his hand, eyes open behind thick glasses.

Tony knelt down beside his friend, resting a hand on his shoulder as tears sprung to his eyes. _“No,”_ he repeated brokenly, shaking Richard's shoulder uselessly. He could hear footsteps carefully picking their way over the rubble, approaching him carefully, and he knew it was probably Rhodey, but Tony ignored him in favor of addressing Richard, even though he knew he couldn't hear him. “Rich, no, come on, wake- wake up, _come on_...” He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Richard. _Dick_. Come on, man...”

“Tony,” Rhodey said gently, crouching down next to the younger man, tucking a careful arm around his shoulders. “I'm sorry, kid. He's gone.”

Tony's face screwed up, and he let out a sob, the loudest, ugliest sound he had ever made in his life, lowering his head as tears began to fall down his cheeks. He barely registered the comforting hand Rhodey kept on the back of his neck, squeezing gently to ground him as he mourned his best friend.

A high, pitiful wail echoed from deeper within the ruined house, seemingly in response to Tony's own cries, and Tony's head shot up in shock.

Rhodey looked up, as well, eyes wide, caught somewhere between hope and horror. “It can't be,” he breathed.

 _It was_. Tony would recognize that cry anywhere. _“Peter,”_ he gasped, scrambling to his feet and stumbling further down the hall to the nursery.

He faltered in the doorway, seeing Mary's body sprawled out in front of Peter's crib in a similar manner to her husband, but Peter let out another soft cry that snapped Tony out of his daze, and he steeled himself, entering the room and approaching the crib.

He was a little afraid of what he might see inside, unsure if Peter would be terribly injured and disfigured, having survived the house falling down around him, and whatever Voldemort had undoubtedly tried to throw at him, but when he looked, Tony was relieved to see Peter in one piece, sitting up in the crib, little face pressed against the bars as he looked down at his mama on the ground.

“Mama,” Peter whined, one tiny hand poking through the bars, trying to reach Mary. Tony's heart broke all over again. He crouched down in front of the crib so that he could be closer to Peter's eye level.

“Peter,” he whispered. “Hey, bubba.”

Peter's gaze snapped away from Mary to look up at Tony's face, big brown eyes full of unshed tears. That little hand lifted up to grab in Tony's direction as the baby cooed sadly.

“'Ony,” Peter mumbled, opening and closing his fingers in a grabbing motion. “'Ony, hold.”

Tony didn't hesitate, standing up and scooping his godson into his arms, holding him close to his chest, burying his nose in the soft tuft of curls on top of Peter's head, breathing in the familiar babyish scent of powder and milk, intermingled with the dusty smell of the broken drywall that had crumbled into Peter's crib and dispersed itself into his hair.

“Peter,” Tony repeated, his vision all but whiting out with the relief that at least Peter was alive, at least Peter would make it out of this. “I got you, buddy, Tony's got you, I'm here, you're safe...”

“'Ony,” Peter said mournfully, curling close to Tony, tucking his head under his godfather's chin, snuggling into one of the safest places he knew. “Owie.”

“Owie?” Tony asked, alarmed, afraid that he had missed something serious in his cursory glance to see if Peter had been hurt. He shifted the little boy in his arms to take a closer look at him, and immediately saw what Peter was referring to.

There was a new, angry-looking cut on his forehead, in the shape of a childishly-drawn lightning bolt. Tony recognized it instantly as the symbol of the Killing Curse, and white-hot protective fury flared inside him at the realization that Voldemort had turned his wand on Peter, tried to kill an infant all because of a god damned bullshit _prophecy_. His anger was only calmed somewhat by the knowledge that, obviously, for whatever reason, Voldemort had failed. Peter had survived, and he was right there, safe in Tony's arms.

The cut on Peter's forehead, stark red in contrast to his otherwise unmarred milky pale baby skin, was no longer bleeding, but there was a trickle of dried blood running down Peter's nose from when the cut was still fresh. Tony traced the line with a gentle thumb, his heart aching at the idea of Peter hurting, alone and afraid, and he pressed a kiss to Peter's hairline.

“I'm sorry, Peter,” Tony whispered, his eyes falling shut as he tucked his godson close to himself once more, a fresh wave of tears leaking out from behind his eyelashes. “I'm so sorry, bug.”

“Tony?” Rhodey's voice startled Tony out of the quiet moment alone with his godson, and he turned to the nursery door, where Rhodey was standing looking sorrowful but determined. “You should go,” he continued, once Tony was looking at him. “Take Peter. Get out of here. Go to headquarters, you don't need to be here.”

Tony hesitated, looking down at Mary on the floor beside him and swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat. “But-”

“Tones,” Rhodey said, more firmly. “Take Peter to headquarters. We can handle this. Help is on the way.” The added, _you shouldn't have to see this anymore_ was so strongly implied, Tony could swear Rhodey had used Legilimens to put the thought in his head.

Tony wanted to argue, but he looked down at Peter and realized that the little boy was starting to fall asleep in his arms, his watery eyes growing heavy as he slumped against Tony's shoulder, exhausted from the trauma of the evening, finally able to relax in the safety of his godfather's arms.

Tony sighed softly, blinking back a few more tears as he shifted Peter into a more comfortable position in his arms. He knelt down next to Mary, unwilling to leave without saying goodbye, brushing her hair from her face and leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“I'll take care of him,” he whispered. “I promise. He's gonna be okay. I won't let you down.”

He could feel Rhodey's eyes on him as he stood up, dusting off his jeans with one hand and holding Peter securely in the other, but he didn't say a word as he passed his friend on his way out of the room. He muffled a sob into Peter's hair when he caught another glimpse of Richard on his way out of the house, but he was determined to save his next breakdown for a time when he wasn't holding Peter.

* * *

Faster than Tony had made his promise to Mary that he'd keep Peter safe, he was forced to retract it.

“We're sending the child to live with Richard's brother and his wife in Surrey,” Nick Fury said, the moment he strode into the office, looking, as always, like a steampunk pirate wizard in his long, black leather robes and his ever-present eye patch.

“What?” Tony said sharply, his head snapping up to look at the old man, gaze tearing away from the snoozing baby in his lap for the first time since he'd arrived at headquarters by Floo. “ _No_ , he's going to stay with me, that's- that's always been the plan, if... if something happened. I'm his godfather, he's _my_ responsibility.”

“The Ministry may be satisfied with the conclusion that Voldemort has been destroyed, but you know as well as I do that he is too smart to let something like this stop him,” Fury said, speaking loudly to drown out Tony's protests. “We have to assume that he is still out there somewhere, and if that is the case, we must take all necessary precautions to keep the boy out of danger until he is ready.”

Loathe as he was to let go of Peter, Tony suddenly wished he wasn't holding him so that he could get up and pace maddened circles around the room, waving his arms and shouting as loud as he could. “Ready for _what?”_ he hissed, glaring at the old headmaster. “I don't give a damn what you say, _Professor_ , it will be over my dead body that I ever let you or that fucking prophecy get anywhere _near_ Peter, I give you my word.”

“That is not up to you,” Fury said, in that infuriatingly calm, steady tone that made Tony feel like he was still in school, being chided for a wrongdoing without voices ever being raised. “If you want your godson to be safe, you will allow him to grow up without the darkness of his past or the weight of his future looming over him. Growing up under your care would paint a target on the back of his head the size of a house; you aren't exactly a nobody, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes, pulling Peter closer to his chest, careful not to wake him. “We could go somewhere that I would be,” he argued.

“Voldemort's followers will stop at nothing to find the child,” Fury insisted. “He will be safer if he knows nothing of magic or the wizarding world, until the time comes for him to rejoin it. We will take him to Ben and May Parker, and I don't want to hear a single report of you breaking any wizarding laws just to coddle the boy.”

Tony's blood turned to ice in his veins. That sounded like he was saying... “I can't _see him?”_ he whispered, arms tightening minutely around the little boy in his lap. “That- no, this is insane, you're _certifiable,_ you can't- _No,_ you- you-”

The more Tony talked, the tighter his throat became, until he could barely choke a sound out around the lump of emotion in his throat. He curled around Peter, pushing his nose into his hair, trying to let the familiar scent comfort him, but it didn't work this time. “Please,” he whispered, eyes growing damp for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “He's all I've got left.”

If Fury was sympathetic, Tony couldn't see it on his face. “I'm sorry, child,” he intoned. “This is for the best. You want him to be safe, don't you? This is how we can keep him safe. By sending him to live with the last living family he has, the protection sustained within his very blood will stay strong.”

Tony looked up at Fury without lifting his head. _“I_ can keep him safe,” he said quietly, his voice shaking.

“I know,” Fury said, lowering his voice a little now that Tony wasn't raging at him anymore. “But the war is not over yet, and we need your skill. Peter will be better off with the Parkers.”

* * *

Tony's request to take Peter to his aunt and uncle's was denied. Fury wouldn't put it past him to get on his bike, claim he was flying to Surrey, and then disappear into the night, taking Peter with him, never to be seen again.

Tony had to admit, it sounded tempting.

So instead, he was given until Fury finished writing a letter to the Parkers explaining everything to say goodbye to his godson. Peter was still asleep, which perhaps made the actual “goodbye” part easier; it was essentially just a lot of snuggling and pressing kisses all over Peter's little face, which Tony had already been doing, anyway.

“I love you, you know that, right bubba?” Tony murmured, looking down at Peter, tucked safely into the crook of his arm, snoozing peacefully, unaware of the plans being made for him at that very moment. “Just because I have to let you go doesn't mean I don't. And Ben and May love you too, they'll take good care of you. Probably better than me, anyway, I've never been too good at the whole 'living' thing. I would have tried, for you, but I'm sure it'll be better this way. I really am a mess, kid, you're probably getting off easy.” Tony sniffed, blinking back tears as he leaned down to kiss Peter's forehead, on the side unmarred by his new lightning bolt scar. “I'm gonna miss you so much. Grow up happy, ok? I'll come see you as soon as it's safe.”

Tony cried harder than ever when Fury carefully pried Peter out of his arms and carried him out of sight.

* * *

_**June 2012** _

Peter yawned widely as he trotted downstairs bright and early, stomach growling at him for food as his nose followed the scent of toast and bacon into the kitchen. “Breakfast smells good, Uncle Ben,” he said sleepily, dropping into his seat with a small huff, leaning into the kiss that Aunt May pressed to the top of his head.

“Almost ready, little man,” Uncle Ben promised, shooting Peter a warm smile over his shoulder, just as someone outside tapped a quick rhythm on the front door.

“Peter, will you get that, honey?” Aunt May asked, rooting through the cupboards for plates and glasses. “It's probably just the mail.”

“Yes, Aunt May,” Peter said, sliding back out of his chair and heading back into the front hall to answer the door. He undid the bolt and lock and cracked the door open just enough to look through with one eye to see who was there.

It was not the mail man. This man was a little shorter than Uncle Ben, with curly brown hair a few shades darker than Peter's, and a meticulously-groomed goatee. He wore a Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans, and a long black overcoat with big sleeves. An ornate carved stick of some sort was stuck into his waistband. Peter might have called it a wand, if Halloween had come early this year.

When the door opened, even though it was only a crack at first, the man straightened up, suddenly looking a little nervous, running a hand through his hair so that it stood up funny. He patted the pockets of his overcoat, as though checking to make sure something hadn't fallen out, and then he scanned the doorway intently, until his eyes met Peter's single one staring back at him through the crack.

Peter opened the door a little more, so that his whole face was visible to the man standing outside. All the air in the man's lungs seemed to leave him in one big _whoosh_ , and he looked like he'd been hit over the back of the head as he stared at Peter, eyes wide. As Peter stood there staring right back at him, the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then slowly leaned down to crouch at Peter's eye level.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost breathing the word like if he said it any louder Peter might disappear.

Peter knew that voice. He knew that face, though it was ten years older, now. He barely had any memories from when he was a baby, as was the case for most people, but some things he could recall so vividly, it was as if they were like his own personal photographs. The lullaby his mother sang him when he woke up feeling lonely. His father holding him under the arms high in the air, making him feel like he was flying. This man, his Uncle Tony, standing frozen in awe as Peter took his first steps toward him, determined to reach his godfather after he'd been away for a long time, then breaking out in a huge grin and scooping Peter up in a big hug that felt like the safest place in the world, covering his face with kisses while Peter's parents watched and laughed.

“Uncle Tony,” Peter whispered.

Tony's breath wheezed out of him as though Peter's words had been a physical punch to the gut, but he was smiling, a slow burning grin that started small but ended up stretching from ear to ear, despite the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed, looking over Peter's face, like he was trying to memorize it. “Yeah, that's me. Your Uncle Tony.” He laughed softly, reaching up to swipe roughly at his damp eyes. “It's good to see you, buddy.”

Peter stood still for a moment, watching Tony, as a strange, empty feeling settled into his chest, and his own vision blurred with tears. “I- I _missed you,”_ he whined, pushing the door open all the way so he wasn't hiding behind it anymore, fidgeting with his hands, because he desperately wanted to jump into his godfather's arms for one of those big, safe hugs, right now. “Where did you go?”

Tony's smile turned into a frown, suddenly looking as sad as Peter felt, if not perhaps more. “That's kind of what I'm here for, bud,” he said softly. “To tell you about all that.” He glanced behind Peter into the house. “Are Ben and May home?”

“Mhm.” Peter nodded, but he didn't move to go inside, yet, his mind still stuck on that hug. He couldn't resist anymore, lurching forward and locking his arms around Tony's neck, clinging as tightly as he could without throttling the man.

Peter felt, more than heard, Tony sigh, maybe in relief, as his arms came up to return the hug, wrapping securely around Peter's small frame, one hand finding it's way to the back of his head, cradling it gently, fingers buried in his curly hair.

“I promised I'd come back,” Tony murmured into Peter's hair, rubbing Peter's back as the little boy snuggled as close as he could. “I'm sorry it took so long. I'll explain everything, I swear.”

“Ok,” Peter whispered, holding on tight for a few more seconds before slowly drawing away, staying within arm's reach, mostly because when he stepped back, Tony's hands came up to cup his face gently, cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world, and it felt really nice. “Ben and May are making breakfast.”

Tony nodded in understanding, letting his thumb trace Peter's cheek for a moment longer before withdrawing his hands and standing up. “Let's go see them, huh? We've got a lot to talk about.”

Peter's face fell when Tony took his hands away from his face, already missing the loving contact of the slightly callused palms against his cheeks. Impulsively, he reached up to slip his own hand into his godfather's, and Tony answered the action with a smile, squeezing Peter's fingers briefly as he followed the little boy into the house.

“Ben! May!” Peter called, leading Tony down the hall into the kitchen. “It's Uncle Tony!”

“What-?” May asked, baffled, looking up from the silverware she was setting on the kitchen table. She promptly dropped the rest of it, the knives and forks clattering to the floor loudly as she gaped at Tony with wide eyes. “Oh my _god. Tony.”_

“Holy shit,” Ben muttered, turning the stove off so that he didn't burn anything in his distraction.

Tony cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Hi there,” he greeted awkwardly.

May choked out a laugh. “'Hi there,' he says,” she repeats, voice full of disbelief. “Haven't seen the guy in eleven damn years, and he says 'hi there.' Come here, you little shit, I want a _hug_ , not a 'hi there'.” She approached Tony with open arms, reaching up to wrap him in a warm hug, smiling fondly. “It's good to see you.”

Tony relaxed into the hug, letting go of Peter's hand momentarily to return it properly. “Good to see you, too,” he replied. “Sorry it's been so long.”

“Not like it was your fault,” May pointed out as she withdrew, frowning a little, as though remembering something unpleasant.

Tony made a face, clearly agreeing with her, then shook himself a little and changed the subject. “Anyway. Complaining about one man's life choices isn't why I'm here.” He looked down at Peter and rested a hand on top of his head, ruffling his curly hair gently with a fond smile. “Our little man's turning eleven soon, isn't he?”

“Of course,” Ben agreed, and then realization dawned across his face. “Oh, _of course!”_

Peter's brow wrinkled in confusion. “What? What's so exciting about eleven? 'm already double digits. And you said I don't get to be a grown-up 'til I'm 18.”

Tony grinned. “Believe it or not, eleven is _even better_ than either of those,” he told Peter, leaning down. He glanced up at Ben and May. “Have you told him anything?”

“Only a little,” May admitted. “Fury's instructions were very, um... restrictive.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Tony's talking about the magic, Pete,” Ben said softly.

Peter's eyes widened, and his hand flashed out to grip his godfather's eagerly. “You know about that?” he asked hopefully. “I was really scared, the first time, and Ben and May tried to explain it, but they didn't know a whole lot about it, and they said they'd find someone who did, or someone would find us, but it might take a while, and I didn't want to _wait_ , 'cause the first time it happened I had a bad dream and I accidentally set my bed on fire, but sometimes the magic is really _pretty_ , like when I make flowers grow-”

Tony huffed a surprised laugh at the tangent that Peter set off on as soon as he realized that Tony might be able to help him figure out an unknown, slightly frightening aspect of himself. He lifted a hand to gently cover Peter's mouth, cutting off the never-ending babble streaming from the little boy. “Yeah, kiddie, I know about it,” he confirmed, smiling. “And I promise, we have all the time in the world for all the questions I'm sure you have. Settle down, ok? Take a breath.”

Tony lowered his hand from Peter's face and watched with amusement as Peter sucked in an exaggerated breath and blew it out, looking like he might vibrate out of his skinny little body with excitement. “Good,” he said slowly, visibly trying not to laugh. “Not very convincing, but I'll take it.”

Peter's eyes widened imploringly. “Just _tell me_ already, or I'm gonna explode!” he begged, flailing his arms out wildly. “Do you have magic too? Can you show me?” He gasped, and if it were possible, his eyes went even wider. “Can you _teach_ me?”

Tony shook his head, but not in refusal. More in the fond, resigned manner that indicated he was coming to the conclusion that, no matter what he said, Peter wasn't going to settle down any time soon. He tilted his head in the direction of the sofa in the adjoining sitting room. “Come sit with me, bud. I need to give you something.”

Peter was vaguely aware of Ben and May trailing after them to listen as he and Tony went to sit down, but he was too interested in the folded-up piece of what appeared to be actual, real parchment Tony took out of his coat pocket to pay them much attention. The parchment was folded up like an envelope, complete with an ornate red wax seal keeping it closed, and Peter's name and address printed across the front in black ink. The penmanship was careful, but still a little messy, like the writer was used to writing fast and didn't usually bother trying to make it look neat, but made an effort just this once.

Tony offered Peter the letter. “That's for you,” he said. “You read that, and then I'll tell you what it all means.”

Peter took the letter eagerly, tracing his finger over the wax seal before carefully sliding under the edge of the parchment to break it, unfolding the letter and reading the contents in the same scrawling penmanship.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_  
WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY**

_Headmaster: Nicholas Fury  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Parker,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_~~Yours sincerely~~ ~~ugh~~ ~~love~~ ~~no~~ ~~affectionately~~ ~~ew~~_

_Yours sincerely,  
Tony Stark_

_Anthony Stark_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Peter took a moment to giggle over the scribbled-out words at the end of the letter, which Tony had evidently written himself, torn between being professional and personal. Then he looked up at his godfather. “Hogwarts?”

“It's a school,” Tony said, tapping the coat of arms at the top of the page, a big shield divided into quarters with an “H” in the middle. “Where kids like you learn how to use magic.”

Peter looked back at the parchment, rereading the words _witchcraft and wizardry_ several times and getting excited all over again. “Really?”

“I went there, and now I teach there,” Tony said, smiling. “And...” He reached into his pocket again, and produced what looked like an old photograph, slightly faded in color and a bit wrinkled around the edges from age, but the most unusual thing about it was the fact that it _moved_. It was like a little movie scene, playing itself over and over, but on a piece of paper. Peter had seen some magical things, been the cause of most of them, but this was by far the most magical.

The photograph became a thousand times more interesting when he realized that the three people in in were his parents and Tony, years younger even than in any of the pictures Peter had in his photo album. This picture looked like it had been taken when they were only a year or two older than Peter was now, under a tree on a big grassy hill, with arms thrown around each other's shoulders, grinning toothily at whoever was taking the picture.

Since this magical picture moved, Peter watch with a delighted smile on his face as he watched preteen Tony turn his head and blow what was probably a noisy raspberry on Mary's cheek. She gasped in surprise and burst into laughter, which set the two boys off almost immediately, causing the three of them to duck in and out of frame as they giggled helplessly, still clutching each other.

“Wow,” Peter whispered, tracing the edges of the picture reverently. He tore his gaze away from the image of his parents, young and happy, laughing with their best friend, to look up at Tony. “They went there too? Hog... Hogwarts?”

Tony nodded, also looking at the picture, his expression torn between happy and sad. “They did. They were amazing, two of the best students in our year.” He looked even sadder for a moment, then shook his head to steer his thoughts away from whatever was making him look like that, and turned a smile on Peter. “And now it's your turn, huh? The next generation. You'll love it, Pete, you really will, if you're anything like your parents...”

“Oh, he is,” Ben said with a fond laugh.

Peter looked back at the photo, then the letter in his other hand, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “So... I'm... I have magic, so that makes me a... a... wizard? Is that it? Am I a wizard, Uncle Tony?”

“You're a wizard, kiddie,” Tony confirmed, grinning.

Peter beamed. _“Awesome.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, everybody! let me know what you think of this AU by leaving a lovely little comment for me to look at! stay safe, wear a mask, and eat lots of sugar tonight <3
> 
> find me on tumblr [@riseuplikeglitterandgold!](https://riseuplikeglitterandgold.tumblr.com/)


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